Hair Dye

by 1-800fangirl

Aunt May is on a cruise, leaving the one and only Tony Stark to deal with Peter Parker for an entire month. Of course shenanigans are going to ensue. (A compilation of Iron Dad and Spider Son oneshots; see inside for more details and individual oneshot summaries.)

4. The Art of Dealing with Tony Stark

Let me just say that I treasure each and every one of you who has followed, favorited, and reviewed more than I can say - your support keeps me going! This oneshot is actually longer than the last, but that's because I ended up combining three different prompts (and hopefully I did a decent job with that in itself).

Prompt (suggested by Uia on FanFiction): Pepper and Pete cook breakfast together or some activity where the two get closer like Tony/Pete are.

Prompt (suggested by The RealMasonMac on FanFiction): How about Tony, Peter, everything in his suit, and Karen?

Prompt (suggested by Kim on FanFiction): I was thinking maybe that for a prompt Pepper gets angry (but not too angry lol) at Tony for something and as punishment she "takes away" Peter for a day (or however long you want), i.e., she has Peter be her assistant/or work for her in some way. Peter doesn't know anything is wrong, he just thinks it's really cool that Pepper wants him to work with her and is loving life experiencing something new meanwhile behind the scenes Tony is a really depressed and emo dad lol and subtly is trying to get him back by either duping Peter or almost-groveling to Pepper bc he sees that Peter is so happy working for Pepper and doesn't want to be the cause of ending that happiness.

As aforementioned, I tried to combine these prompts, so the end result is essentially Pepper and Peter bonding along with some scenes starring the one and only Karen (and of course classic Iron Dad and Spider Son). I apologize if it's not 100% like what you may have envisioned, but I always kind of go with the flow when I write, and this is how it turned out, lol.

Note: I think I used three words of Spanish in the story; I apologize if they don't accurately translate. Also, Pepper has a moment where she goes off about the Avengers a bit; this was not me ranting about them, but it was more me trying to write from the perspective of how a regular human would feel living in the world of the MCU.

Thank you for suggesting, and I hope you all enjoy!

xXxXxXx

"Mr. Stark, please!" Peter begged. "I haven't been out as Spider-Man once the entire time I've been staying with you."

"And that's because Queens is thirty minutes away by car, Underoos," Tony retorted, rolling his eyes. "What, are you going to fly there?"

"I mean, yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "I can get there in less than fifteen minutes by webslinging, Mr. Stark." He'd been arguing with the older man for what felt like years but in reality was probably no longer than thirty minutes.

"What happens if you hurt, huh?" Tony demanded. "What if I don't get there quickly enough to save you, Pete?" He glared at the teen. "You think I'll be able to keep living with that on my conscious?"

Peter sighed. "Mr. Stark, your concerns are totally valid but also super exaggerated!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "For one, I'm not exactly inexperienced, Mr. Stark. I've been working as Spider-Man for over a year now." He held up a hand to stop Tony from speaking. "Even if you put aside the fact that I've never received official training, I know Queens better than I know myself. Every corner in every dirty alley."

"I don't even want to know why you're so familiar with dirty alleys."

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony ignored the squawk of protest and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, silently acknowledging the kid's point.

Peter decided to take that as a positive and continued. "Second, I feel like it's finally time I test out all of those new updates we added to my suit! There's no way to actually know how effective they are until I use them in action."

Tony sighed but again didn't comment. Peter thought their conversation had taken a remarkable turn for the better.

"And third," he said, "I can't just abandon Queens. It's my job to protect the city and the people who live there!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "If you aren't paid, Underoos, it's not a job."

"Okay, fine. Protecting Queens and her citizens is my responsibility," Peter amended. "Either way, Mr. Stark, it's something I have to do. So please, please let me go down to Queens for a bit!"

Tony sighed, running a hand through his red and brown hair as he waged an internal war with himself. Finally, he threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine. You can go to Queens."

"Yes!" Peter cheered, pumping his fist in celebration.

Tony held up a finger to stop him. "Ah ah ah, I wasn't finished, Underoos. You can go to Queens - if you agree to my conditions."

"Please don't make me wear those hot pink Hello Kitty pants again," Peter begged, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "I'm not sure my pride can take another blow like that."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed. "Those pants are an absolute luxury - you know this and you love them." He smirked at the kid. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you still keep them in your drawer, Spiderling. I'm flattered."

"You shouldn't be," was Peter's muttered response. "I'm trying to sell them on eBay." That, of course, was a lie - Peter would never admit it but he'd become rather fond of those Hello Kitty pants. After he'd somewhat worked through the trauma associated with his suit being taken away, a building falling on him, and a plane crashing with him still on it, that was. At the end of the day, they were a gift from Mr. Stark, and he loved them solely because of that.

"What?!" Tony sputtered. "Peter Parker, how dare you -"

"Moving on," Peter interrupted, snickering. "What are the conditions I have to agree to, Mr. Stark?" He could have sworn the man grumbled something about 'not selling Hello Kitty' under his breath, but he wasn't sure.

Tony sighed. "Alright, kid. Here's what you have to do. Rule One: do not throw yourself into overly dangerous situations. Your suit is neither bulletproof or knife proof. In other words, do not show up at my doorstep bleeding on everything."

Peter nodded. That rule was easy enough to follow. All he had to do was make sure he didn't injure himself - simple. And even if he did happen to get hurt, then he just had to heal up before getting back. Also not a problem.

"Rule Two," Tony continued, "takes into account the fact that I know you are going to blatantly ignore Rule One." He raised an eyebrow at the kid. "Am I correct?"

Peter flushed a shade of red almost as deep as the color in his hair. "Uh… Not exactly?"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought." Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, Rule Two is that if - or when, what with your habits - you end up in some sort of dangerous situation, you contact me. Understand?"

"But I don't want to bother you for something little like that, Mr. Stark!" Peter protested. "I can handle myself. Plus, I don't want to accidentally distract you from anything important."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You are important, kid. Now either you agree to the rule or you don't go."

Peter bit his lip. He'd never forgive himself if he interrupted some crucial scientific breakthrough, but if agreeing to the rule meant he'd get to go to Queens, then agree he would. "Fine."

"Excellent," Tony said. "Last but not least is Rule Three: be back before curfew."

Peter frowned. "I have a curfew?"

"You do now." Tony glanced at his watch. "It's a little past seven, so… Be back before ten, got it?"

An indignant squawk escaped Peter's lips. "Mr. Stark! That's not even a full three hours in Queens! And taking into account the amount of time it'll take me to travel there and back, it's barely two and half hours." He gave the man his best puppy dog eyes. "What about midnight?"

"Eleven," Tony said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Take it or leave it, Underoos."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Fine." At least eleven o'clock was better than ten. Maybe he'd actually have a chance to fight some crime now.

"I'm pretty sure those are the only rules I was able to think of earlier before I got distracted by Dum-E in the lab," Tony continued. "And if you don't follow them, there are going to be severe consequences. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled, itching to get out of the tower and swing over - literally - to Queens. He could practically feel the air rushing past his face already.

"Alright," Tony said, apparently satisfied with his attempt at 'parenting.' "You can go. Say hi to Karen for me."

Peter wasted no time running up the stairs to his bedroom, hastily changing into the suit thrown out across his bed, nearly tripping over his feet as the fabric got tangled around his legs. A minute later, however, he was ready, and he pressed the small spider on the front, tightening the suit around him.

"Hello, Peter." Karen's warm voice greeted him loud enough to hear but quiet enough as to not put him into sensory overdrive. He'd never admit it to the man's face, but Mr. Stark really had thought of everything. "How are you doing tonight?"

"Excited to be back out, Karen. What about you?" Peter moved to the balcony in his room, calculating the best place to swing from the wall of the tower to one of the buildings around it. Once he managed to do that, it'd be easy enough to get to Queens.

"I have spent much of my time speaking with FRIDAY, but it is nice to hear your voice again," Karen replied. "I recommend dropping down to the next level before you swing, and if you don't mind my saying this, aim for better than a ninety degree angle this time."

Peter groaned. "I wish you'd stop reminding me of that."

"I apologize, Peter. Mr. Stark has programmed me to remind you of the event until, quote, 'it bores him.'"

"Were you at least able to erase the footage?" He was sure that she hadn't, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"No, but thanks to assistance from FRIDAY, Mr. Stark is unable to share the video or otherwise show it to anyone unless they are in his lab using a very particular projection screen," Karen replied. If the AI could smirk, Peter had a feeling that was exactly what she would have been doing.

"You guys are the best," Peter said. "Thank FRIDAY for me, will you, Karen?"

"Certainly, Peter."

While she was doing that, Peter carefully climbed out over the edge of his balcony and dropped down to the level beneath him. He'd done it a few times before, though never as Spider-Man. He honestly had no idea whose room it was, but he suspected it was for one of the rogue Avengers, because whomever it belonged to was never there when he needed to 'borrow' the balcony.

"Message sent," Karen said. "I will notify you if she sends a response back."

"Awesome." Peter frowned as he examined the city of Manhattan around him, trying to work out the best route to Queens. Finally, he gave up. He'd never been good with long-term directions. "Karen, can you tell me the quickest way to get to Queens from here?"

"I assume you'd like to go to a hotspot for crime?" Karen hummed.

Peter laughed. "To be fair, Karen, any place in New York after seven o'clock is a hotspot for crime. But yes, I would appreciate that."

"Of course, Peter."

Seconds later she'd pulled up a map for him, and he transferred the data to a projector in his wrist, creating a hologram in front of him with a bright red line detailing the best way to go.

"I trust this is an acceptable route for you?"

"If it's from you, Karen, I'm sure it's perfect." Peter stepped up onto the edge of the balcony, steadying himself before jumping off and free-falling toward the ground, then shooting out a web midway and using his momentum to continue swinging from building to building.

"Would you like me to convert the wavelength of the police scanner to one that corresponds with your suit, Peter?" Karen asked. "Another option would be for me to summarize reports of crime in the area we are headed for."

Peter waved at a mother and her three kids, happiness blooming in his chest when he heard their excited squeals and a warm smile dancing on the mother's lips as weariness seemed to fade at least partially from her eyes. He couldn't look too long, however, as seconds later he was swinging to the next building. "I think a summary would be best." The last time Karen had converted the police scanner for him, he'd been so excited that he'd reenacted a scene from the Incredibles, which had ultimately led to him tripping over his own feet and nearly falling off a building.

He'd allowed Karen to save that footage; he knew once his initial humiliation wore off, it'd be fantastic to watch. Then again, it had been two months already and his humiliation still hadn't yet worn off.

"Certainly, Peter." There was a brief pause before she continued. "The streets appear to be relatively quiet as of right now, but according to statistics I'm processing, this may change after ten or eleven o'clock."

Peter groaned mid-flip as he swung through the air. "Most of the action is going to pick up after my curfew! Ugh."

"My apologies, Peter. I did not take your time restrictions into account," Karen said. "However, I believe the 'action,' as you put it, will still occur in numerous amounts before eleven o'clock. Once you are required to return to the tower, Peter, should I send out a notification to local police about any crime occurring in the Queens vicinity?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Peter paused in his swinging as a faint sound reached his ears, landing on the top of some office building with less grace than he would have liked. "Do you hear that, Karen?"

"Hear what, Peter?" his AI asked, her voice almost curious despite the fact she was not a person and could not express emotion.

"I think it was someone screaming for help," he muttered, eyes narrowing as his suit started focusing on one section of the city at a time. "Sounded like a woman, though I'm not a hundred percent sure."

"Scanning area," Karen reported, and moments later a section at the corner of his vision was highlighted and magnified. "Detected screaming and repetitive pleading from a woman, likely of Latina descent."

"Is someone attacking her?"

"My range for the scan is limited and almost did not extend over the victim, so I am unsure."

Peter nodded. "Okay. As we get closer, Karen, scan again and see if you can pick up someone or something that might be harming her. Okay?"

"Understood, Peter."

Peter readied himself, then jumped off the building, swinging quickly from place to place, focusing solely on the girl's screams. "Karen, are we even in Queens yet?"

"The woman you are tracking is on the outskirts of Manhattan and Queens," Karen replied.

Peter nodded almost imperceptibly as he flew through the air, ignoring the shock that jolted through his bones as his next web didn't catch quite as high up as he needed it to be.

As soon as he was close, he paused on the roof of a nearby building, able to see the girl from there. She was staring in horror at something hidden in the shadows. "Karen, can you activate night vision?" He frowned. "Or would thermal vision be better?"

"Based on the heat of the surrounding air, I would recommend night vision," was Karen's response, efficient and accurate as usual.

"Cool. Activate night vision."

Seconds later, Peter found himself able to see further into the alley, though everything was now some varying shade of green. Sure enough, in the back corner was a tall man - or so he suspected - holding a dagger that was at least ten inches long.

"Well, that's not shady at all, is it, Karen?" Peter murmured.

"If you are being sarcastic as I suspect you are, than I agree: it is not shady at all. However, if you are asking me a genuine question, then I regret to inform you that it is indeed rather 'shady.'"

Peter would have laughed at the AI's deadpan remarks had he not been so focused on the task at hand. "Karen, why isn't she running away?" The night vision was allowing him to see basic shapes, but did not highlight details. He'd have to talk to Mr. Stark about that.

The night vision suddenly switched off, and Karen magnified the girl, who he then noticed was clutching her side. "I believe she has been stabbed, Peter."

He cursed under his breath, knowing full well that the AI could hear him. Unlike FRIDAY, however, Karen was more lax about correcting his language, especially when he was under pressure. "So I need to disarm the guy, web him up, and then get the girl to a hospital?"

"She may not wish to go to a hospital," Karen warned. "Based on my facial recognition scan, the woman is named Liliana Varela, and her green card for staying in the U.S. recently expired."

"Well shit," Peter mumbled. "How's she going to get medical treatment?"

"If you are so inclined, Peter, I can download a first aid instruction set for you to use if you choose to treat her yourself," Karen offered. "However, I would recommend taking care of the man with the dagger first."

"Sounds great. Anything pop up for facial recognition on him?"

"I'm afraid not."

Peter shrugged. "Well, we can't have it all." Having grown tired of sitting around and waiting, he jumped off the roof and swung into the alley, landing neatly in front of the girl. Now that he was closer, the smell of liquor and smoke radiating off of the man was smothering. He almost gagged, and was thankful his mask hid that embarrassing reaction.

Karen seemed to notice his distress, and immediately the suit started using the filter Mr. Stark had recently supplied it with, making the air cooler and easier to breathe - and without the disgusting smell, much to Peter's relief.

"Dude, I am only going to say this once: please take a bath," Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You smell ripe, man."

"Shut up, you little twat," the man sneered. "Get out of my way or I'm going to gut you first."

Peter tapped his chin, as if in deep thought. "How about… No?" As he spoke, he shot rapid fire webs at the man. In seconds, he was pinned to the wall and the knife had been knocked from his grasp. An efficient snapping of a web knocked the guy out, and would likely keep him that way for hours. Peter debated on where to dispose of the dagger, but nothing was coming to mind.

Of course, Karen seemed to have heard his unspoken question and said, "I would recommend allowing the weapon to be turned over to the proper authorities, Peter."

"Right," he said, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. "Duh." He tossed the dagger down in front of the man, just out of his reach. He may have been unconscious, but Peter wasn't taking any chances. "Have you contacted the police yet, Karen?"

"They are on their way."

"Great." Now Peter had to take care of the girl, who was still shaking and pinned up in the opposite corner of the alley, although with no restraints keeping her there he suspected that she hadn't run away simply because of fear. Fight, flight, freeze - the poor girl had frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Hey," Peter said, slowly approaching her and keeping his voice as level as possible. She was young - probably older than him, but still young. "What's your name?" He knew the answer, of course, courtesy of Karen, but if he wanted her trust, he had to gain it on his own.

"M-Me llamo Liliana," she stuttered, her hazel eyes so wide that she really did resemble a deer in headlights.

"Peter, would you like me to activate the translator mode in your suit?" Karen asked. "It is far from infallible, but combined with your background in Spanish from school, it may be enough to help you maintain a relatively simple conversation with her."

"Translator mode?" Peter repeated, brow furrowing in confusion under his mask. "Did Mr. Stark add that recently?"

"It was added the last time the two of you were working on the suit, yes."

"Huh. What does it do, exactly?" He hoped the girl couldn't tell he was still speaking, because talking with Karen was essentially talking to himself from an outsider's perspective.

"It translates the words going in and out of the suit," Karen replied. "You will say something in English - or Spanish, if you can identify the term you need to use - and she will hear the entire thing in Spanish. Likewise, what she says in Spanish you will hear in English."

"Duh. I should have realized that." Peter almost laughed. "Well, it sounds way too good to be true. But I'm not complaining. Let's do it, Karen."

"Activating translator mode."

"Hi, Liliana," Peter said kindly, returning his attention to the girl. "I promise you're safe with me. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? I just want to help you."

The girl was still hesitant, but nodded, her shoulders seeming to relax ever so slightly. Apparently the translator mode was pretty effective, because he doubted she would have understood his words had they been delivered in English alone.

"Did that man hurt you?" Peter asked. "I saw that he had a knife. Did he touch you with it, or even touch you without it?" He paused, then backtracked. "Actually, how did you wind up here in the first place?"

The girl bit her lip, as if debating whether or not she wanted to tell him anything. Finally, she said, "Double date. My traidora of a friend arranged it."

"Traidora?" Peter mumbled. "Doesn't sound like English, Karen."

"My apologies, Peter. As I said, not all of the bugs have been worked out."

"It's fine. I think it literally translates to mean 'backstabber,' or something along those lines."

The girl took a deep breath before continuing. "She said she had a nice girl for me to meet. She said it would be fun." She shuddered. "I go, and I find out the 'nice girl' is that man. I wanted to leave, but my friend did not let me. Insisted that I 'give it a try.'" Peter noticed the tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes as she hugged herself tightly. "He tried to touch me, to make love to me, so I ran away. But he followed me." She stared at the unconscious man, her eyes void of all emotion. "He scratched my side with the knife."

"Any other physical injuries?" Peter asked. "Anything that needs immediate treatment?" He was well aware the girl would likely need some sort of therapy, but there was only so much he was equipped to handle past eight o'clock at night.

Huh. He hadn't even noticed that an entire hour had passed already.

The girl shook her head. "No."

"Okay." Peter took a tentative step closer to her. "May I see where he cut you?"

The girl hesitated, then slowly nodded, lifting up her shirt.

"Holy shit," Peter mumbled, forgetting the girl could understand him until he heard a tiny laugh escape her lips. "This is definitely not a scratch."

A gash, maybe. Not organs appeared to have been punctured, but this was not something he could take care of on his own. Crimson blood was gushing out faster than her hands were able to suppress it.

"Liliana," Peter said gently, looking away from her wound and meeting her eyes. "You need to let me take you to the hospital. You need medical treatment."

The girl hastily shook her head. "No hospital!" she said, fear dancing in her voice. "Please. No hospital."

Peter bit his lip. The girl needed treatment, and she needed it now - that much was certain. "Karen, how fast can you renew her green card and transfer some of my personal savings into my main account so I can pay for her surgery?"

"I am not sure how wise of an idea that is, Peter."

"I can't leave her out here to die!" Peter snapped.

"I understand, Peter, but -"

"Please, Karen. I have to do this."

Peter knew the AI would have sighed if she could have. "Fine. I will work on it."

Peter returned his attention to the girl. "Liliana, you need to go to the hospital," he said calmly. "I know you're afraid. But a friend of mine is renewing your green card as we speak, and I will personally pay for your surgery, understand?"

This time the girl hesitated instead of answering with 'no' immediately. Finally, she mumbled, "Okay."

Her timing was almost scarily convenient, because just then several police cars and an ambulance pulled up at the alley. Peter was surprised he hadn't heard them coming, but then again, he'd been rather invested in the task at hand. "Awesome," he said, offering the girl a warm smile. "Then it's time for me to leave."

"No!" the girl exclaimed, staring at him with pleading eyes and taking a step in his direction. "Please stay. I'm afraid."

Peter flinched, noticing for the first time that the girl was even younger than he'd initially thought - maybe only seventeen or eighteen. This was not part of the plan. "Karen," he muttered. "What should I do?"

"Well, based on my analyses of several crime reports, there does not seem to be a spike anywhere nor is there anything too challenging for police to handle," Karen replied. "If you choose to accompany her, I do not believe adverse consequences will necessarily arise."

Peter bit his lip, weighing his options. On the one hand, he was Spider-Man. He was supposed to patrol and protect the city. On the other hand, he had a feeling that this girl would not go to the hospital unless he was with her. If she died because of infection, he'd never be able to forgive himself. "Alright," he said softly as the ambulance pulled up into the alley. "I'll stay with you."

The look in the girl's eyes transformed from panic to something more serene as she offered him a watery smile. "Thank you."

The rest of the evening was a blur, if Peter was honest. From securing the guy he'd webbed up to helping the girl into the back of the ambulance and her clinging to him like he was a life preserver in the middle of a stormy ocean, well, he may have had enhanced endurance, but damn was he tired when the girl came out of a three hour long surgery.

Or he thought she did, anyways. One of the doctors he'd met when they'd initially arrived approached him, and immediately tiny warning bells started going off in the back of his head.

Danger, danger! they screamed, but Peter ignored them. However he didn't fail to notice the way the doctor's shoulders were sagging and how the bags under her eyes seemed more pronounced than when they'd first met.

"I have some bad news, Mr… Spider-Man," she said, not meeting his gaze. "The girl you brought in? Liliana Varela?"

Please. No.

"She was hemophilic. Do you know what that means?"

Peter vaguely recognized the term, though he had no idea what it meant. That was more of Dr. Banner's specialty. "No."

"Her blood doesn't clot. It's a chronic disease, with no known cure." The doctor ran a hand through her dark hair. "If I'm honest, I'm amazed that it wasn't diagnosed before now, but it's not unheard of for people to simply not be injured enough where extensive blood loss is the result."

Peter's breath hitched at the words 'extensive blood loss.' "Is she…"

The doctor finally met his gaze, her eyes heavy as she slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, but she didn't make it. We tried everything we could, blood transfusions, cauterization, everything, but the amount of blood she lost was too great to replenish."

Peter felt sick. "I see." He hadn't saved her. "Thank you for letting me know." If he'd only worked a little faster.

The doctor nodded at him a final time before leaving, undoubtedly having to operate once again on someone else.

God, Peter couldn't breathe. That girl. That poor girl. Why hadn't he saved her? Why?

He practically ran out of the hospital, swinging from building to building, higher and higher, until he reached a rooftop where he stopped to catch his breath.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

Despite being artificial, Karen's voice was almost… Soothing. Mr. Stark really had worked wonders with her.

"Yeah," Peter mumbled. "I'm fine."

"Your elevated heart rate indicates otherwise. Do you feel guilty over the death of Liliana Varela?"

Peter flinched at the mention of her name. "Yeah. Kinda."

"I see. Why?"

"Why?" Peter scoffed. "Really, Karen? It's my fault she died! I didn't work fast enough to get her to the hospital in time."

"That is incorrect, Peter."

"And how would you know that?"

"I scan everywhere, everything, and everyone, Peter, and I do so all of the time. The girl had bled out more than what was replenishable before you arrived. You did not kill her." He could almost picture Karen giving him a sad smile. "You allowed her to live a final time before she died. She did not die in a cold, dirty alley at the hands of a man who wanted to manipulate her body for his own gain. She died knowing that there was someone - you - waiting outside who cared for her." The AI paused before adding, "It is perfectly natural to want to blame yourself, Peter. But I just wanted to let you know that you gave Liliana Varela one last gift of happiness before she passed on."

Peter hesitated. "You think so?"

"I know so, Peter. I am programmed to be infallible."

Peter couldn't stop himself from laughing at that. "Most of the time, anyways. Remember that time you miscalculated and I slammed face-first into a skyscraper?"

"Everyone has a bad day. I'm inclined to believe that incident was a result of your own clumsiness."

"Oh sure, Karen. I bet -"

"Incoming call from Mr. Stark."

Peter's eyes widened. "Oh my God. Karen, what time is it?!"

"It is half an hour past eleven o'clock, Peter."

"Shit!" Peter scrambled to his feet. "I was supposed to be back at the tower by eleven! Mr. Stark is going to kill me!"

"Should I decline his call?"

"Uh, yeah," Peter hastily agreed, jumping off the building and webslinging as fast as he could back towards the tower. "Do you think you can make it look like I'm somewhere without service and that's why he can't connect?"

"Certainly, Peter." Karen hesitated. "However, I am unsure whether that is the best course of action for you to take -"

"Less talking, more blocking, please!" Peter interrupted as he flipped through the air, nearly not completing his somersault but managing to shoot a web at the next building and continuing forward.

"Call blocked."

"If he calls again do the same thing," Peter ordered. "Er… How far away am I from the tower?"

"Approximately twenty minutes," Karen replied. "Your ETA is around midnight."

Peter sighed. "He is so going to take my suit."

xXxXxXx

Peter tumbled onto his balcony at exactly two minutes before midnight, scrambling to his feet before running inside the bedroom, closing the doors to the balcony behind him. Panting, he yanked his mask off to breathe in gasps of the cool tower air.

Of course, it was just his luck to turn around and see Tony Stark behind him, sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to say after a long pause, giving the man an awkward wave. "Uh… What's up?"

"You're late," Tony snapped, staring icily at him. "I hope you have a decent explanation, Mr. Parker."

Peter flinched. 'Mr Parker' was never a good sign. "Well… I lost track of time?"

Tony scoffed. "Right. You 'lost track of time.' What an original excuse." He glared at Peter, who flinched a second time. God, Mr. Stark could be terrifying. "Why don't you cut the bullshit already and just tell me the truth?"

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. A flicker of guilt danced inside Peter, but he ignored it. "Goddamnit, Pete. When you didn't show up at eleven I almost went into cardiac arrest. You have got to start being more responsible. At the very least, you should have notified me that you were going to be late."

Peter rolled his eyes in frustration. "Mr. Stark, I didn't realize I was going to be late until it was 11:30."

Tony crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. "Oh really? And what was so important, kid, that it distracted you for over three hours?"

Peter was silent. Despite Karen's comforting words about Liliana Varela, he didn't exactly want to talk about the events of the evening, much less with an angry Mr. Stark.

"What, are we playing the quiet game now?" Tony snapped. "Fine. You've just lost both your lab and Spider-Man privileges for a week. If you don't start talking, I'm going to extend it to two."

Peter's jaw dropped, unable to believe his ears. "What the hell, Mr. Stark?"

"Watch your language, Mr. Parker. Am I hearing three weeks?"

"You can't do that!" Peter sputtered. "You aren't the boss of me!" This was a lie, of course, but he'd never been someone skilled with thinking up witty comebacks when under pressure.

"Actually, I am," Tony corrected. Then he sighed, and his icy stare was replaced with a look of utter exhaustion. "Peter, you can't deliberately ignore the curfew I set and then not explain to me why you ignored it and still expect there to be no consequences." His shoulders sagged. "Before I had FRIDAY reroute the call you blocked, the fact you were out of service had me thinking that you'd gotten yourself hurt and were bleeding out in some alley. Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Peter flinched at the words 'bleeding out,' which he knew hadn't gone unnoticed by Mr. Stark. "Well, I'm fine. So can we just drop it?"

"'Just drop it?'" Tony said incredulously. "Okay, fine. That's the last time I care about your well-being, Mr. Parker." He frowned, frustration written all over his face. "Now either you're going to explain yourself or it's three weeks. I'm giving you five seconds to get started."

Peter glared angrily at the man, his guilt mixing with irritation to create some awful form of unbridled rage. "Oh, so you care about me now because I'm a little after curfew? You didn't seem to care when you ignored me for months after we got back from Germany! Or after you took my suit! Not to mention the shit I went through with the Vulture!" He was seething. "You don't have the right to pretend to care about me!"

Tony was staring at him with wide eyes, hurt and confusion flickering in them, not that Peter gave a damn. "Pete, I -"

"Just leave me alone," Peter growled, not caring how rude or out of line he was acting. "I've had a long night, and I'd like to get some sleep while I still can."

Tony ran his hands through his hair. "Peter, if something happened out there tonight, you need to talk to me -"

"No!" Peter interrupted, clenching his fists so tightly his fingernails were digging into his skin even through the suit. "You aren't my dad, Mr. Stark! I don't have to talk to you about anything! So I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave. Me. Alone."

His tone was laced with venom, but he ignored the regret coursing through his veins as Mr. Stark took a step away from him. Peter didn't miss how the blood drained from the man's face at his words, but he didn't give a shit. At least that was what he was telling himself. He ignored the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he watched Mr. Stark silently leave, the door softly clicking shut behind him.

Only then did he bury his face into his pillow and cry.

xXxXxXx

Peter awoke to a gentle shaking of his shoulder. "Go away," he grumbled, eyes bleary as he cracked them open only to clench them shut as bright light flooded his vision. "Still sleeping."

"Sorry, Peter," a voice he recognized as being female despite his exhaustion said. "You have to get up now. I've let you sleep as long as I could. You're going to be helping me out today."

Peter groaned, slowly sitting up. "I'm doing what?"

"Well, normally I'd have my assistant or Tony help me, but I gave Sharona the week off and Tony has locked himself in the lab for the time being." There was a pause. "He told me about what happened last night."

Peter winced as memories flooded his brain. Liliana Varela. Yelling at Mr. Stark. He groaned. God, he'd told the man that he wasn't his dad. Which was true, but at the same time it wasn't. "I have to talk to him," he muttered, trying to climb out of his bed - still not having opened his eyes - but instead tripping over his feet. He probably would have faceplanted into the floor had someone not grabbed him and pulled him upright.

"Steady, Peter. I don't need you to get a concussion. Then there wouldn't be anyone at all left to help me."

Peter decided that he might as well open his eyes already, and upon doing so met the warm gaze of the one and only Pepper Potts. "Ms. Potts?!" he sputtered, instinctively backing away. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you!" Oh God, he'd tripped over his own feet in front of perhaps the most brilliant and powerful woman on the planet, if not the universe.

Pepper laughed. "Don't worry. Get yourself dressed and meet me in the kitchen. There's a lot we have to get done today."

Peter frowned in confusion. "What?"

Pepper rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, a small smile dancing on her lips. "Did you not hear a single thing I said to you, Mr. Parker?"

He flinched instinctively when she called him 'Mr. Parker,' reminded of his argument with Mr. Stark. "Not exactly?" He bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Ms. Potts. I'd love to help you, but I really need to talk to Mr. Stark today."

"And you will," Pepper reassured him. "Although I wouldn't advise you to do that now. He's… Preoccupied. Working. Distracting himself, I presume."

Peter groaned, slamming the base of his palm into his forehead. "God, I screwed up."

"Don't we all?" Pepper offered him a sympathetic smile. "Meet me in the kitchen, Peter. Today you're going to learn a little bit about the art of dealing with Tony Stark."

Peter wasn't sure how to react to that, instead nodding as Pepper left his room without another word, heels clicking against the floor. He stood frozen for a few seconds longer before jumping into action, running a brush through his tangled hair and throwing on a clean pair of clothes - he'd still been in his suit, holy shit he'd been caught sleeping in his Spider-Man suit by Pepper Potts - before taking the elevator down to the kitchen.

"Glad you're able to join me," Pepper called from behind the counter, tossing him an apron that he caught instinctively. "We're going to make breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, after all. Pancakes sound good to you?"

Peter nodded, still unable to find his voice.

Pepper chuckled, winking at him. "Just make sure to leave enough for Tony, okay?" Then she sighed, her tone tinged with exasperation. "Assuming he'll actually eat it, of course. That man is notoriously bad at taking care of himself." She offered Peter a small smile. "And that is the reason why I'm going to teach you how to deal with Tony. At least in part." She laughed. "If I tried to teach you everything about putting up with Tony Stark, we'd be here for years."

Peter did crack a smile at that as he tied his apron around his back. "You could write an entire series about how to deal with Mr. Stark." He hesitated, then added, "How exactly are you going to… Teach me?"

Pepper shrugged. "I have a few ideas here and there." She glanced at her watch. "We're on a tight schedule, so let's get started."

Peter beamed at her, the guilt weighing on his chest lifting slightly at the thought of spending the day with Ms. Potts. He'd never really had a chance to be around the woman for extended periods of time, seeing as he was really only ever at the tower for his internship or for Spider-Man business. "Ms. Potts, can we make the pancakes into shapes and stuff?"

Pepper blinked in surprise, then laughed. "Sounds wonderful. Usually I stick with circles that don't resemble circles in the slightest."

Peter joined Pepper at the griddle she'd plugged in that lay on the counter, heating up. "May can't really cook to save her life, but pancakes are usually manageable. We always try to make them into stars or hearts or even little Mickey Mouse heads."

"Well, I think that's a tradition I'd like to adopt into this household, if you don't mind," Pepper said with a chuckle as she pulled various ingredients from the pantry and fridge.

Peter smiled. "The more the merrier, right?"

"Yes, I'd have to agree -" She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. She frowned as she picked it up from the counter and glanced at the caller ID, then sighed. "I have to take this, Peter. Do you mind mixing the pancake batter?"

"Not a problem," Peter said, and Pepper mouthed 'thank you' at him as she answered the call before leaving the kitchen.

"Hello, Mr. Cotton. Yes, I'm available to talk right now, but I'd prefer if you could keep things…"

Eventually the woman was out of earshot, and Peter briefly wondered if she had gone so far as to be out of range of his enhanced hearing or if she'd simply moved into a soundproof room. Knowing the way Mr. Stark had structured his tower, it was probably the latter.

Peter started prepping the pancake batter, pouring the ingredients into a bowl and mixing them almost mindlessly, having done it hundreds of times before. His thoughts drifted to his argument with Mr. Stark. He hadn't meant to yell at him. He'd just been tired and stressed. Not that he was trying to excuse his actions, but…

Maybe he was trying to make up excuses.

He sighed as he finished mixing the batter, noting that he'd made enough to create at least a hundred pancakes. Then again, Ms. Potts knew he could probably eat two hundred pancakes in one sitting if he was really hungry, so she'd likely gotten out enough ingredients accordingly.

Peter poured some batter on the griddle, attempting to create a star shape, wincing when the final result was… Well, not a star. Apparently he was a little rusty.

Three circles, two 'stars,' and an uneven heart later, Pepper returned to the kitchen, sending a final message on her phone before tossing it on the counter. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "I swear that the list of issues with companies is neverending."

"Especially when that company is Stark Industries," Peter quipped, a small smile dancing on his lips. "But if anyone can handle it, it's you, Ms. Potts."

Pepper shook her head, smiling. "What a flatterer. I'm sure you're a real hit with the ladies."

Peter snickered. "Yep. All my teachers love me."

Pepper swatted him with a towel. "Ha ha, Mr. Parker." She moved over to the sink, quickly washing her hands before returning her attention to him. "Mind if I assist in making breakfast?"

Peter glanced down at his misshapen pancakes, wincing. "Hopefully yours will turn out better than mine."

Pepper laughed. "I guess we'll find out."

Peter was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Ms. Potts. Not that he thought she was stuck up or anything - he was just so used to seeing her radiating an air of authority. But this was different. This was a Pepper Potts who was relaxed and enjoying some of the rare spare time she was blessed with.

No wonder Mr. Stark always stared at her so lovingly when he thought no one was looking.

In the end it took he and Ms. Potts under thirty minutes to make a grand total of 97 pancakes - 34 circles, 17 stars, 21 squares, 12 hearts, and 13 Mickey Mouse heads - and less than twenty minutes to eat their fill.

Peter was about to start cleaning up when Pepper stopped him. "As much as I appreciate your kindness, we don't have time to do that," she said. "FRIDAY, let Tony know that breakfast and dishes are waiting for him."

"Right away, ma'am," the AI replied.

Pepper took Peter's apron and tossed it next to her own on the counter before grabbing her phone and tucking it into her pocket. "Today you're going to be my assistant, Peter," she explained. "It's going to be kind of boring at first, I'll admit it. Paperwork and a few errands. Are you ready?"

Peter shrugged. "Fine by me. I'm not really doing anything else."

Pepper laughed. "If only everyone who worked here had that kind of attitude." She winked at him. "Let's see how long you last."

Peter was about to retort that he thought he'd do just fine when Tony Stark walked into the kitchen, hair sticking up in a hundred directions and a presumably empty coffee cup in hand.

Tony froze when he saw them, and Peter couldn't stop himself from stiffening, either.

"Good morning, Tony," Pepper said, either oblivious to the tension between them or simply ignoring it as she walked over to her fiancé and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm happy to see you aren't completely restricting yourself to the lab. Breakfast eagerly awaits you." Then she gestured to Peter. "I'm going to be using your intern for the day, alright? I let Sharona have the week off. She's going to New Jersey to spend time with her boyfriend. Randy Disher, I think his name is. Sweet kid. A police chief, if memory serves." She waved her hand dismissively. "Anyways. Peter's going to be my personal assistant."

Tony looked overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of words, but managed to mutter, "I see."

Pepper gave him another quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you don't mind me stealing him for the day. I'll try to bring him back before curfew."

Peter flinched at the reminder of last night, and pretended not to notice Mr. Stark doing the same.

"Let's go, Peter," Pepper instructed, making her way to the elevator.

Peter followed her, deliberately ignoring Mr. Stark's gaze as he hastily moved past the man. As soon as he joined Ms. Potts in the elevator and the doors slid shut behind him, he was unable to stop his shoulders from slumping in relief.

Pepper shook her head. "The tension between the two of you was so thick that I'm not sure vibranium would have been able to cut it." Her eyes softened. "Peter, I only know what Tony has told me. If you'd like to talk to me about what happened last night, I'm fully willing to listen."

He shrugged in response, his voice caught in his throat.

Pepper nodded. "Later, then. If you're feeling up to it." The elevator dinged, drawing the attention of the two.

Peter's eyes widened as he realized where they were, wordlessly following Ms. Potts into the room.

"Welcome to my office, Peter," Pepper said, gesturing around her before making her way to her desk. She offered him a tiny smile. "What do you think?"

Peter opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish before finally managing to sputter, "It's - It's amazing!"

Besides the huge balcony-slash-window that he was insanely jealous of, there was also a tiny robot on Ms. Potts's desk that he suspected helped her with paperwork. The walls were obviously some form of nanotech, and he had a feeling they would project holograms of whatever information the woman needed. She could probably even manipulate them to a certain extent - from video conferences to editing reports.

Then again, there was also a nice computer on her desk with a keyboard that appeared rather worn, so it was also possible that she preferred what Mr. Stark called an 'old-fashioned' way of working.

There were a few other standard items in the office; filing cabinets, a cup filled with pens, and assorted plants in the corners to liven up the room a bit.

"And you get to spend the whole day in here," Pepper said, winking at him. She paused, then corrected herself with a laugh. "Well, not an entire day. Just long enough for you to file this for me." She gestured at a large stack of paperwork resting on her desk, and Peter couldn't help but wince at the sight. "I know it seems like a lot, but the filing system I use isn't complicated, so it shouldn't take you too long. Alphabetical order by last name per company."

Peter nodded, feeling slightly less anxious at the task but still not wanting to screw things up.

"When you're done with these there's a few errands we have to run," Pepper continued. "And by a few I mean one. I have a meeting to attend, and you'll be joining me. All you're going to have to do is take notes, and it's not a high stakes conference, so there's no need for you to stress yourself out over that, either."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. "Right. Got it."

Pepper glanced at her watch and sighed. "I've got to step out for a moment. I promised I'd meet with the electrical department about an issue they're having with vacation days. I'll be back in twenty. Until then, file away. And if you're done before I get back, please don't leave this room. Thanks again!"

With a wave and a cheery smile, she was gone, leaving a stunned Peter behind her.

The entire morning had felt like a whirlwind. He'd been woken up to get dressed then make and eat breakfast right away, and immediately after that had been told he'd have to file hundreds of papers and take notes during a conference. Not to mention he'd awkwardly avoided a confrontation with Mr. Stark.

Ms. Potts was more talkative than he thought she'd be - or maybe that was just because he was so used to her being with Mr. Stark, who had a tendency to do most of the talking.

Peter realized he was still standing around instead of filing the papers Ms. Potts had asked him to take care of, which prompted him into action.

However, he quickly realized that being bitten by a radioactive spider didn't exactly increase his attention span when it came to the same laborious task of filing paper after paper. "This is so sad," he muttered, unable to resist the temptation to recite the iconic meme. "FRIDAY, play Despacito."

"Playing Despacito," FRIDAY replied, and Peter's eyes widened.

"I wasn't serious!" he sputtered, biting back laughter as the familiar song started to play. "It's just a meme, FRIDAY."

"Meme: a humorous image, video, piece of text, etc., that is copied - often with slight variations - and spread rapidly by Internet users." FRIDAY paused. "I fail to see how this song is a meme, Peter."

Peter chuckled. "I don't know how to explain it, FRIDAY, but it is."

"Would you like me to stop playing the song?"

"Yes, thank you." He paused, then added tentatively, "Do you think you could play Lindsey Stirling?" He'd recently fallen hard and fast for the violinist - or for her music, anyways. The fact that she was an entirely self-made artist, too, was also beyond amazing to him.

"Certainly, Peter. Playing Lindsey Stirling."

Peter found he was able to focus much easier with familiar music dancing around the room. He even started to skim over the files he was putting away instead of just glancing long enough to see the last name and company before filing the paper accordingly.

Of course, it was probably illegal to read these files, but legalities of that sort had never concerned Peter very much.

He froze in shock as he reach a section in the papers titled 'SHIELD.' There were several of them, each labeled with the name of a different Avenger.

Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Clint Barton. Sam Wilson. Wanda Maximoff.

Peter noticed that there wasn't one for Mr. Stark, although his name was mentioned on every form under one particular section: Expenses.

"What the hell," he muttered, going through every SHIELD report to see the exact same thing. Ever since the Avengers had been founded, Mr. Stark had covered every. Single. Expense. Sure, the man was a billionaire, but still - he'd never once heard him complain about having to pay for everything, much less hear anyone thank him for doing so.

Then one particular paper caught his eye. Flughafen Leipzig-Halle.

He knew that name.

A quick read of the file informed him that Flughafen Leipzig-Halle was the airport where he'd fought against the Captain America. Peter didn't know much about the Accords, but he'd understood enough that he agreed with them in that superheroes had to be held accountable for their actions.

And based on this, the only person ever held accountable was Tony Stark, even if Steve Rogers - or someone else - was the one doing the damage.

Peter was tempted to ask FRIDAY about that file and the others, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed the large stack of papers he had yet to put away.

Later. He'd ask the AI later. He had to finish his job first.

xXxXxXx

"Sorry I was gone for so long," Pepper apologized as she stepped out of the elevator. Peter noticed that her formerly neat bun had a few more hairs straying from it than it had before, and he suspected that meeting may not have gone exactly the way she wanted. "There were more issues than I anticipated."

"That's okay," Peter reassured her before filing away the last paper. "I kept busy."

A ding echoed in the office, and Pepper sighed as she glanced down at her phone. She rolled her eyes. "Time to go, Peter. The conference you need to take notes at has just been rescheduled for thirty minutes from now, and it's at least a twenty minute trip there."

Peter bit his lip. He hadn't had a chance to talk to FRIDAY about the SHIELD files yet.

Then again, Ms. Potts probably knew just as much as the AI did, and might be more willing to talk to him than something programmed by Mr. Stark.

He followed the woman into the elevator, silently debating whether to ask her then or later. He was saved from having to decide, however, when Ms. Potts spoke.

"After the conference we can pick up lunch somewhere. You can choose; I'm not very picky." She glanced at her watch. "It'll probably be around two, though. It's a good thing we had a late breakfast." She smiled at him. "You're doing excellent so far, Peter. You've already mastered the first lesson in the art of dealing with Tony Stark."

Peter blinked in surprise, all thoughts of SHIELD forgotten. "I have?"

Pepper laughed. "The first lesson is patience, and tied into that is the concept of 'rolling with the punches.' You haven't complained once the entire time about the amount of work I've saddled on you, nor did you say anything about how much longer I took in the meeting than I was supposed to. Plus, you didn't even argue when I woke you up with the fact that you were going to be working with me for the day. Dealing with Tony is wild and unpredictable, so being patient and doing your best to be prepared for anything is a must."

Huh. Peter had never really thought of it like that. "Are there other lessons?"

"A few." Pepper winked at him. "Remember patience, Peter. We'll get to them soon enough." Her phone rang, and she cast him an apologetic look as the doors of the elevator opened, revealing the garage. "I have to take this."

Peter nodded, following her out of the elevator and towards a car, which Happy was standing next to. "Hey Happy!" he said cheerfully as the man held the door open for Ms. Potts. "I thought you weren't a driver anymore?"

Happy glared at him, though there was no genuine malice behind it. "I double as Pepper's personal bodyguard at Tony's request, kid."

"Which includes driving for her," Peter teased as he climbed into his side of the car.

Happy rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

The drive was mostly silent, the exception being Ms. Potts as she continued speaking with… Whoever had called her.

Peter stared out the window, watching trees and buildings go by. As much as he was enjoying hanging out with Ms. Potts, he still wanted to apologize to Mr. Stark. He didn't know exactly how to apologize, yet, but he was genuinely sorry for shouting at the man instead of talking things out.

God, it was going to be awkward as hell to explain to him that maybe Peter did see him as a father figure. Just a teeny tiny bit.

The rest of the ride to the conference was a blur. If Peter was honest, the conference itself was a blur, too. It was about stock exchanges and the like - otherwise known as things Peter knew enough about to not care. He took notes, however, and Ms. Potts seemed pleased by everything he'd written down based on the tiny smile she'd given him before having to answer yet another phone call. He didn't understand how she balanced everything and still maintained her sanity. Thor wasn't the strongest Avenger - Ms. Potts was.

They stopped for lunch at a shawarma place Peter had always wanted to try - wanted to try with Mr. Stark, admittedly, but that didn't seem as if it was going to happen anytime soon - and were there for about an hour before driving back to the tower, which in itself was maybe a ten minute trip. Still, it was well after four o' clock by the time they returned.

Peter followed Ms. Potts into the living room on the private floor of the tower, aka the 'Iron Suite,' and hesitated before sitting down on the couch next to her.

"I'm sure you've been wanting to ask me some questions," Pepper began, powering her phone off before returning her attention to him. "I can see it in your eyes. And I'm sure a lot of them are about Tony. I'll answer everything as best I can - another lesson in the art of dealing with Tony Stark is understanding him. Some of that will come into play later, when you're forced to talk with him, of course."

Peter winced at the thought of talking to Mr. Stark. He couldn't picture a single future where the man would actually want to talk to him.

"Don't worry," Pepper said softly. "He'll come around. He feels as bad as you do."

"I don't even know how to apologize to him!" Peter groaned, running his hands through his hair. "I was being a dumbass and I didn't even bother thinking about the words I was saying until they'd already left my mouth."

Pepper shrugged. "Well, that's something you have in common with him, then. Tony is notorious for running his mouth instead of saying what he actually means."

Peter managed a laugh. "Is that one of the most important things to know when it comes to understanding Mr. Stark?"

Pepper chuckled. "Now that you've pointed it out, yes, I'd have to say it is."

Peter remembered his question from earlier, when he'd been filing papers regarding SHIELD, and figured there was no harm in asking. "Ms. Potts, why does Mr. Stark pay for every Avengers-related expense?" He hesitated, then added, "Do they even know he pays for everything? Because sometimes it seems like Mr. Stark gets the short end of the stick when it comes to Avengers business. No one ever thanks him for cleaning up all the messes they leave behind, even if Mr. Stark himself wasn't directly involved."

Peter could have sworn Pepper muttered something rather foul under her breath. "You ask some hard questions, Mr. Parker." He noticed that her blue eyes had lost some of their energetic spark. "I'm sure you know at least a little bit about Tony's experiences in Afghanistan. How before he was selfish and arrogant and completely irresponsible, and how when he returned his personality had turned a complete 180."

"I remember," Peter said, vaguely recalling how the media had blown up, some supportive and others… Less supportive, to put it kindly. "He wanted to stop making weapons."

Pepper nodded. "Yes. And that's why Stark Industries is the way it is today. But the reason Tony changed, Peter, is because he found out that his weapons were being sold under the table to the very people he'd created them to be used against. Beyond this, however, is that he realized how many innocents were suffering. Because of him. Or so he would say." Pepper took a shuddering breath, and Peter noticed the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Tony vowed to be responsible for anything and everything he was connected with. He never said so out loud, but anyone who was around him enough could tell."

Peter frowned. "The Avengers couldn't, apparently."

Pepper shrugged. "I don't want to be rude, but many of the Avengers can be very self-absorbed." She paused. "Well, that's not true. But they're only able to see life through a narrow tunnel. They perceive one possible outcome, and they assume that's the outcome everyone else sees, too."

Peter had a feeling she was hinting at the dispute between Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers. He'd shown up at the tower one day for his internship, only to be turned away at the door, but not before catching a glimpse of Tony Stark battered with cuts and bruises.

"They have a tendency to… Not think ahead," Pepper continued. "It's almost laughable. Earth's Mightiest Heroes, and yet so few of them consider the consequences of their actions. And when things shatter in their wake…"

"Mr. Stark is the one there to pick up the pieces," Peter finished.

She nodded before continuing. "You asked if they knew how Tony pays for everything." Pepper sighed, shrugging. "Based on how he and Rogers split the way they did, I'm inclined to think not. I guess they just assume SHIELD takes care of it. Which, of course, doesn't make it better, because they're still assuming that they shouldn't have to worry about." She scoffed. "Some superheroes they are." She cast him an apologetic look. "Sorry. You wanted to know more about Tony, not hear me talk trash about the other Avengers."

Peter laughed. "It's kinda funny."

Pepper shrugged. "I'm a regular citizen. I see things differently compared to superheroes, even if I am engaged to one. And I believe my view matches better with the average population than the rest of the Avengers does, yet they consider me 'uninformed.'" She cursed. "Damn it, there I go again." She covered her mouth, then mock-glared at Peter. "Do not repeat that word. I'll never hear the end of it."

Peter stuck out his tongue. "Bold of you to assume I haven't heard that word before."

Pepper shook her head. "Tony is a terrible influence on you." She snapped her fingers. "Speaking of Tony, before I get off track again, do you have any more questions about him?"

Peter wracked his brain because he could have sworn there was more he wanted to know, but for some reason he couldn't think of anything. Maybe that was his subconscious telling him that he needed to talk to Mr. Stark himself. "I guess not."

"Well, before I move on to the next lesson in the art of dealing with Tony Stark, I'll just share a little information with you." Pepper glanced at him. "How much do you know about the Accords themselves, Peter?"

Peter blinked in surprise. He hadn't been sure what Ms. Potts was going to talk about, but this was not it. "Uh… Not much, I guess. I know it has to do with government regulation of superheroes."

Pepper nodded. "Essentially. I'm not going to bore you by going into technical detail, but here's how Tony sees it: the Accords are a way of making sure that superheroes, enhanced beings, whomever, take responsibility for their actions."

Peter understood that. Especially after the discussion they'd just had on how Mr. Stark was always the one who had to be responsible for the Avengers.

"Now, the Accords were by no means perfect," Pepper continued. "But what law has ever been perfect on the first try? Long story short, Tony wanted to pass the Accords and then change things from the inside out. One of his more rational suggestions, in all honesty. However." She sighed, running a hand through her red hair. "Not everyone viewed it as a way of taking responsibility. Steve Rogers, for example. He thought the Accords were too controlling. 'The safest hands are our own.' Of course, he didn't say that to anyone who was hurt or died when he was saving the world. He was only talking about himself." For a moment, Peter saw something dark flash in Ms. Potts's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"And that's why they ended up fighting, right?" Peter made a vague hand gesture. "Because Mr. Stark felt they needed to be held responsible, but Mr. Rogers didn't want to be put on a leash."

Pepper nodded. "And they both had understandable points. I can see why they divided up the way they did, even if I don't agree entirely with Rogers. And in the end, Rogers was more hotheaded. Not Tony, surprisingly enough. I'm sure you remember how they ended up fighting at Flughafen Leipzig-Halle - which Tony paid for - and Natasha pulled a Benedict Arnold on Tony. Rogers got away."

Peter panicked briefly before remembering that Benedict Arnold had been a traitor, supporting the American colonists in the Revolutionary War until he wanted more money and moved over to the British side. God, how embarrassing would it have been if he'd had to ask the world-renowned Pepper Potts to give him a history lesson?

"And there's not really much else I can tell you after that." Pepper bit her lip. "Rogers was keeping secrets. Too many secrets. Unfortunately, I can't say what they are, because it's not my place." She laughed, though Peter did not miss how it was tinged with bitterness. "You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this." She didn't bother waiting for him to answer. "One of the most important lessons you can learn in the art of dealing with Tony Stark is to be there for him. And during the Accords fiasco, I wasn't there, and I'll never forgive myself for it." She offered Peter a soft smile. "You've always been there for him, even though I doubt you realize it. Peter, Tony cares for you very much, even if he never says so out loud."

"I wasn't there for him last night," Peter said, frustrated at himself. "Instead I just shouted at him. I got so angry and for no reason!" He groaned. "And I told him that he wasn't my dad. But it's not like I'm his son or anything!" God, he hated being a teenager. Some things just did not need to be so complicated.

"And that's why I'm about to let you go down and talk to Tony," Pepper said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. "But if you're really in doubt about how much Tony cares about you, let me tell you a few secrets that I am allowed to share." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Before Tony met you, Peter, he was always talking to me about the possibility of having kids. He was honestly terrified of the idea, because he didn't want to end up like his father, but he still wanted to have a family. After a certain point, however, he simply stopped asking about it. I didn't know it at first, but this was shortly after he met you, or at least shortly after the two of you returned from Germany."

Peter's eyes widened. "Holy shit, I distracted Mr. Stark from his future. I'm a terrible person."

"First of all, watch your mouth," Pepper began, "and second of all, no, you are not a terrible person." She laughed. "Peter, there's a reason Tony calls you 'kid' all the time. When he thinks you aren't listening, he'll refer to you as 'my kid.' Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you've really become like a son to him."

Peter buried his face in his hands. "And now he hates me, right?"

"He could never hate you," Pepper reassured him. "You just need to go talk to him. Be there for him. And in doing that, he will be there for you."

"You make it sound so easy," Peter said wistfully. If only it could be so simple.

"To be fair, I've had many years of experience," Pepper said, chuckling. "Now go and make a sandwich or something and bring it to Tony. Food is an excellent icebreaker, and knowing him I'm sure he forgot to eat lunch, anyway."

"What if he doesn't want to listen to me?" Peter said after a pause. That had been his greatest anxiety - the idea of Mr. Stark simply turning him away at the door.

"He will," Pepper replied simply. "But if you're nervous, you need to kind of… Open things up. Maybe remind him of something, show him a short video, anything kind of small that you might think of to help ease the tension between the two of you."

A grin crept on Peter's lips. "I think I have an idea." He pulled Ms. Potts into a tight hug before kissing her on the cheek and running off into the kitchen, calling behind him, "Thank you so much, Ms. Potts!"

Pepper laughed from the couch. "You're very welcome, Peter."

xXxXxXx

Peter's heart was practically pounding out of his chest as he waited outside the lab, his grip so tight on the plate holding Mr. Stark's sandwich he was afraid it might shatter. He couldn't enter unless Mr. Stark allowed him access, so he silently prayed the man would let him in soon.

God must have been listening, because there was a quiet click as the door slid open. Peter hesitated briefly before walking in and making his way towards Mr. Stark, who was working intently on what looked like one of his suit repulsors. "H-Here," he stammered, silently cursing himself for tripping up on the first word he'd said to the man all day. "I, uh, made you something to eat."

"Thanks," Tony murmured, continuing to focus on his work. "You can put it down over there." He didn't bother gesturing in any direction, but Peter was well aware he meant on the table next to him.

"So," Peter said after an awkward pause. "Can I show you a video, Mr. Stark?"

That got Tony to stop working. He turned to Peter, eyebrow raised. "Are you seriously asking me to stop what I'm doing so you can show me a video?"

Peter flinched at his condescending tone, but told himself that the man probably didn't mean it. Hopefully. "Yes?"

Tony sighed but patted the seat next to him. "Fine. But it had better be quick, kid."

Peter's shoulders relaxed at the familiar nickname of 'kid,' and a seed of hope was planted in his brain that maybe, just maybe, Mr. Stark wasn't so mad at him after all. He practically leapt onto the chair as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in his password before going to YouTube and searching for a particular Vine.

It took him only seconds to find it because he was an avid Vine-lover, and quickly turned the volume up before handing his phone over to Mr. Stark.

Tony accepted the phone but stared at it almost skeptically, as if he thought Peter was showing him some kind of jump scare.

Instead, a familiar song started to play, and Peter had to bit his lip to keep from laughing as Mr. Stark's eyes widened.

"You are my dad - you're my dad! Boogie woogie woogie!"

At least ten seconds passed before Tony said, "Parker, what the hell was that?"

Peter burst out laughing and promptly fell off of his stool and onto the floor, not caring how he hit the table on the way down as he clutched his stomach. "Oh my God! Mr. Stark, you should have seen your face!"

Tony rolled his eyes and offered Peter a hand, which Peter accepted, pulling him to his feet. "That's what you interrupted my work for? To show me that video?"

Peter had to let his laughter finish dying out before saying, "Yes."

Tony sighed. "Kid, you need to work on your prioritizing."

"But that was my priority," Peter corrected. "Because you are my dad, Mr. Stark." Well, he couldn't stop now. "Kind of, at least. You're not my actual dad and you're not Uncle Ben, but you're up there." The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a crooked smile. "The Holy Trinity of fatherly figures in the life of Peter Parker."

That earned a chuckle from Tony. "As honored as I am, kid, I really shouldn't be up there. I'm not exactly the 'parental' type."

"Yeah, right," Peter scoffed. "Besides the fact that there is no such thing, you're obviously such a dad, Mr. Stark. Like, if you and Ms. Potts ever have children, you would probably be voted dad of the year."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Parker, but I didn't exactly have the greatest dad to look up to as a role model when I was growing up," Tony countered.

"But that's why you are the best dad," Peter corrected, realizing he probably should have said 'would be' but figured it was too late to go back now. "You know not to make those mistakes. Sure, you're going to make mistakes overall, but you know exactly why you hated your dad and that'll help you to not follow in his footsteps."

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you been talking with Pepper?"

Peter turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "Yes, but not about this! I promise!"

Tony shook his head in mock disapproval, but a tiny smile was dancing on his lips. "Thanks, kid."

Peter hesitated before continuing. "I also want to apologize for last night. I shouldn't have shouted at you, I shouldn't have come back after curfew especially without contacting you about it, and I shouldn't have kept brushing you off like I did. You were just looking out for me." He bit his lip. "I'm sure you don't want to hear it, but I'd really like to talk to you about why I was so late last night."

Tony tossed aside the repulsor he was working on, turning towards Peter and giving him his full attention. "Of course I want to hear it, Pete. And I shouldn't have yelled at you. It was clear you were upset but I kept snapping at you anyway."

Peter shrugged. "You were just doing your job." He ran his hands through his hair, taking a somewhat shaky breath to calm himself. "I was out patrolling, and Karen was scanning for crime. It wasn't a particularly busy night, she told me. But while I was standing on a rooftop, I heard a scream. It was far away, but Karen pinpointed it as being in an alley. I used my webshooters and got there as fast as I could." He hesitated. God, part of him wanted to stop then and there.

"You don't have to keep telling me anything," Tony said, his voice calm and his eyes gentle. Peter recognized that look as something he thought was only reserved for Pepper when she was stressed. It made him feel warmer to know that he was included, too.

"No, I want to tell you. I have to tell you." Peter absentmindedly started playing with a screwdriver from the lab table, giving his hands something to do. "It was a woman. Although she probably wasn't much older than me. Karen ran facial recognition and told me that her name was Liliana Varela. There was a man, too - big guy, and he had a huge ass dagger."

"Language," Tony corrected instinctively. "Continue."

Peter managed a half smile at that. "Anyways. The woman had been stabbed, so I figured it would be a routine web the guy up and help get the girl to a hospital. And it was, at first." His face fell. "But then Karen told me that the woman's green card had recently expired. When I tried to talk to her, she only spoke Spanish, so I had to use Karen's translator function and my own miniscule knowledge to communicate." He made a face, attempting to lighten the mood, whether it was more for himself or Mr. Stark he didn't know. "There's a lot of bugs in that, by the way."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "We'll work out the kinks together later. Keep going."

Peter nodded before continuing. "I planned to try to treat her myself, but as soon as she stepped into the light…" He shuddered. "There was blood everywhere, Mr. Stark. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before. And the girl had this huge, awful red gash running down her side, and blood was oozing out so quickly it…" He sighed, needing an excuse to stop speaking if only for a moment. "It seemed unreal. The only way I was able to convince her to go to the hospital was to renew her green card, pay for the surgery myself, and promise to stay with her." He offered his mentor an awkward, if pained, smile. "By the way… If you notice an unusually large amount of money taken out of that college fund you started helping me save, that's what it was for."

"I see," Tony said, returning Peter's awkward smile with one of his own. "Don't worry. I'll be able to replenish it easily. What happened then?"

"I went with her. Three hours, Mr. Stark." Peter looked up at the older man, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't remember if he'd ever felt this vulnerable before. "I thought for sure she'd be okay because if the doctors took three hours then they had to be making sure she'd be completely find at the end of it, right?" He wiped his eyes before the tears could fall down his cheeks. "And when one of the doctors came out to where I was waiting, I knew something was wrong. It was like warning bells going off at the back of my head." He swallowed the lump in his throat, desperately trying to prevent his voice from cracking. "She had hemophilia, Mr. Stark. She'd bled out during the surgery." He stared down at his hands, one fist clenching and unclenching methodically while the other tightly gripped the screwdriver. "And I know there was nothing I could have done. At least, that's what Karen said."

"But you still think 'what if I'd worked faster' or 'what if I'd tried to treat her myself' - right?" Tony's voice would have seemed flat to anyone who didn't know him, but Peter heard something they would have missed. Understanding.

"Yes," Peter admitted in a shameful whisper. "That's why I was in such a bad mood when I got back. And I'm really sorry, because I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

There was an awkward pause, and Peter wondered if he'd finally crossed some unspoken line. Then Tony stood from his seat, dusting himself off before holding out his arms. "C'mere, kid," he said.

Peter's eyes widened, which he knew was an overreaction but he couldn't help it. Tony Stark was infamous for not hugging people.

"Are you going to make me stand here all day looking like a damn scarecrow?" Tony grumbled. "If so, please tell me so I can plant some corn first."

Peter laughed, then slowly stood before wrapping his arms around the older man. It was nice. Sure, Mr. Stark was a little stiff and was petting his hair like he was a puppy - which was simultaneously weird and comforting - but Peter had never felt more at home. Well, second to his aunt, of course.

Or maybe not.

It was a different kind of home. One needed just as much as any other.

He buried his face in Mr. Stark's shoulders, praying that there were no leftover tears on his face getting the man's clothes wet. He hugged him a little tighter, and a second later, felt the arms around him tighten. "Thank you," he mumbled. "You're the best not-dad I could ever have."

Tony snorted, but didn't let go. "'Not-dad?' Really, kid?" He shook his head, clearly amused. Then his expression grew serious. "I want you to know that what happened to Liliana Varela was not your fault, Pete. I know you've heard it from Karen already, but sometimes we all need a reminder from someone a little more human."

Peter nodded into the man's chest, and he was almost surprised to realize that he believed him. There really wasn't anything else he could have done. That knowledge was… Freeing, in a way. He was by no means completely over his guilt, but it was a start.

The hug lasted a minute longer before Tony pulled away, and though Peter was tempted to protest he chose not to. Mr. Stark was always hesitant about physical contact, and he didn't want to push his luck.

Tony glanced at his watch. "It's almost six, kid. You want to order some pizza? I don't trust this sandwich you made me."

"Hey! I put time and love into that sandwich."

"Pizza or no, kid."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds -" Peter stopped himself, a grin creeping onto his lips. "Actually, I think I have a better idea."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Peter beamed at him. "We should put together a surprise dinner for Ms. Potts! She was really nice and helpful to me today." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "She helped me get the courage to come talk to you, as well as figure out how I was going to do it." He laughed. "She called it teaching me 'the art of dealing with Tony Stark.'"

Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter didn't miss the smile dancing on his lips. "Of course she would. But I do like the idea of putting together a surprise meal for her."

Peter clapped his hands together in excitement. "Then let's go!"

xXxXxXx

"Ms. Potts?"

Pepper jumped slightly as FRIDAY's voice echoed in her office. "Yes?"

"There is currently a fire in the kitchen on the sixth floor. I was instructed not to notify you, but my calculations revealed that keeping this information from you would lead to further disaster."

Pepper sighed. "Yes, I can see why." She stood from her desk, brushing herself off. "I'll be down momentarily. Where's the nearest fire extinguisher?"

"There is one inside the kitchen," FRIDAY replied.

"Thank you," Pepper said. She quickly exited her office and took the elevator down to the sixth floor, praying that the kitchen would not resemble post-apocalyptic war grounds by the time she managed to get down there.

The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped out only to be greeted with -

"SURPRISE!"

Pepper froze, eyes wide as she stared at the scene in front of her. The counter was littered with plates of at least ten different breakfast foods. "What's all this?"

Tony and Peter were standing behind the counter, matching grins on their faces.

"It's breakfast for dinner, Ms. Potts," Peter announced proudly. "It's our way of thanking you for helping us out today."

Tony walked over to her, looping his arms around her waist before murmuring in her ear, "And I have an idea for another way of thanking you later."

Pepper rolled her eyes but gave him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away and walking over to the counter, her fiancé a few steps behind her. "How long did it take to prepare all this?"

"Uh… Around two hours?" Peter said, frowning slightly. "I think?"

Pepper shook her head. "You didn't have to go this far. Really. All I did was provide a little encouragement to both of you."

"A little encouragement that helped us both get our heads out of our asses," Tony added, then winced. "Shit. I mean, shoot." He glared at Peter, and Pepper bit back a laugh. "Don't you dare repeat that."

Peter gave him an innocent smile. "I would never."

"Enough chatting," Pepper said, gesturing to the platters of food around her. "I say we eat."

Tony pulled her close to him, trailing his fingers down her spine. "Yes, I think we should."

"Ew," Peter grumbled. "Adults are disgusting."

"What, you don't think your parents should love each other?" Tony asked, smirking.

"Oh my God, I never should have talked to you," Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Ms. Potts, why did I take your advice?"

"Because a child is supposed to listen to his parents," Pepper said innocently. "Isn't he?"

Peter's response was simply to grab a handful of scrambled eggs and throw it at the both of them, thus beginning a war that lasted for nearly forty five minutes. The kitchen was covered in food from top to bottom.

(They ordered pizza in the end.)

xXxXxXx

I try so hard not to use parentheses when I write short stories, but I couldn't think of another way to end this one. I hope I was able to write all three of the prompts to satisfaction, and I also hope my meme references weren't too painful for you guys to read. Stick around for more if you aren't bored of me yet! Prompt suggestions are, as always, more than welcome. :)